


Family Are the People Who Have Your Back

by FanGeekMe



Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Anxiety, Arab Damian Wayne, Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batkids Age Reversal, Damian is the oldest, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick is the youngest, Domestic Batfamily (DCU), Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jason Todd is Robin, Latino Jason Todd, Married Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Romani Dick Grayson, Sadness, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Red Hood, Young Dick Grayson, but like this is a family fic, resurrected Tim Drake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28390350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanGeekMe/pseuds/FanGeekMe
Summary: Damian was the first Robin, now known as Shadowbat. Tim was Robin after him, and is now Red Hood after dying and coming back. Stephanie Brown is Spoiler. Jason Todd is the third Robin and has been for two years. Bruce is married to Selina Kyle.-One April night, a Friday night to be exact, the Waynes go to see Haly's Circus. It is here that they witness the Flying Graysons fall to their deaths. Before the Waynes can grab Richard Grayson, the boy is taken to the Gotham Juvenile Detention Center. Follow the Waynes and Richard Grayson through a familiar origin story retold.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Comments: 34
Kudos: 223





	1. It had been going so well.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of a new era.

The thing that brought the entire circus out of a state of perpetual shock was the sirens.

While it's true that people had screamed and the broken sobs of that little Richard Grayson were filling the hollow arena, nobody had moved. Nobody had dared to even breathe. It's not like they enjoyed listening to that boy after his whole world had shattered, but they didn't know what to do.

Obviously someone called the police, obviously someone wasn't stunned to be glued to their seat. Obviously someone decided to bite the bullet and leave the circus tent with their family or friends in tow. They must've seemed like a jerk, like an uncaring bastard, but after one group of attendees left, more attendees seemed to get up and leave.

Each attendee was thinking along the same lines. How could it end up like this? This was supposed to be a fun family outing, a way to spend your Friday night, a fun and exclusive two hours of entertainment to get away from what is the reality of gritty, gory Gotham. But just like everything else in Gotham, Haly's Circus's show ended brutally and in death.

It had been going so well.

The Waynes got to the show about twenty minutes early. Jason, the youngest of the Waynes, sprinted off instantly and began to explore the circus with his reluctant older brother, Damian, in charge of watching the boy. Bruce and Selina walked and talked with their second eldest son, Tim.

They bought snacks and were entertained by the attractions laying outside the main circus tent. There was popcorn and cotton candy. There were jugglers and knife-throwers. You could shoot with water-guns at targets and try to dunk a friend into a tank full of water by hitting a target with a baseball.

Overall, it was a carefree mood. 

Jason and Damian ran into the backstage area, where Damian's eyes lit up at the sight of a magnificent elephant. A beautiful beast just strutting around the ring. Damian, ever the animal-lover, took interest. As Damian watched the elephant prance around, Jason ran over to his brother with a new friend bounding behind him.

Enter Richard Grayson. Only eight years old, but he was a member of the Flying Graysons. He didn't speak much English, or understand much English, but his eyes lit up when he engaged in conversation with Damian. The boy was just happy to be making a new friend.

Damian knew a little Romani, and he found out that the elephant's name was Zita. Jason and Damian also found out that Richard was exceptional when it came to acrobatics. They also found out that his smile was contagious. He was laughing and so eager to show his new friends his travelling home. 

At the same time that Richard was entertaining Damian and Jason, Bruce, Selina, and Tim were talking to John and Mary Grayson. A lovely couple. They're the Flying Graysons, along with Richard. They spoke basic English, and introduced the rest of the Waynes to Richard.

The two families talked until it was time for the Graysons to get ready for their show and for the Waynes to find their seats. Richard and Jason seemed to not want to part, giving longing smiles and promising to see each other afterwards. 

And then the show began. It started with the clowns. Now, Tim and Bruce hated the clowns from the start, so much so that Tim stared at his phone until the clowns departed. Jason, Tim and Selina enjoyed how cute the clowns were, savoring the sight of clowns that weren't murderous and with green hair.

Next were the animals. Tigers leapt through rings of fire and elephants strut around the ring. Monkeys balanced on one-wheeled circus bicycles as they juggle pins. Damian relished in the animal portion.

After the contortionist and the magician, it was time for the Flying Graysons. 

Oh.

oh.

The Flying Graysons were introduced with moving spotlights and thunderous applause that sounded like giants breaking into a sprint. Mary and John Grayson were on one of the big stands, both holding onto one of the bars. Richard was on the opposite stand. The family was smiling and waving as they were introduced.

John was first. He stepped off of the stand, hands gripping the bar. The audience gasped as he swung through the air like a kid on a swing. His red uniform and the sequins attached blinded the audience and reflected under the stage lights.

John was pulled down and forward. He let go of the bar once, and flipped around so quickly it was almost inhuman. Not only did he flip around, but he replaced his hands' grip on the bar with his knees, so now he was upside down and facing the other way. The audience gasped again and applauded until their hands stung. See, the Graysons were skilled. So skilled, in fact, that they didn't use a net. It's part of what makes their act so special. A trapeze act, so high up, and without a net. It's dangerous, but that's why they practice every day, because their skills will never fail them. Or at least, that was the hope.

Was.

John swung back towards the platform he was originally on. That's when Mary leapt off. She was like a swan, floating through the air. The audience held their breath as Mary and John got closer and closer. Their hands grasped each other's, and the audience could breathe again as husband and wife held on to each other and smiled brightly at their success.

Even more applause. Richard was readying. He was still smiling so wide as the cheers for his parents became louder and louder. He shifted the weight onto the back of his feet as his mom and dad flipped so that they were facing him. He wiggled his fingers in anticipation for his turn to fly. His turn to soar. His turn to be the happiest he'll ever be.

The Flying Graysons love what they do. They love performing, sure, but nothing will ever compare to that feeling. That feeling of soaring through the air as if you're a bird with wings and the sky is your playground and there's no fence around it. Flying is like becoming a smile, like entering a cloud of pure happiness. It's like being Superman, but better. Richard loves flying more than anything in the world, well, not his parents. He loves them the most. But he loves flying, and he was ready to fly that night.

But he never got the chance.

As his mama's and tati's eyes met his, as their smiles met his, as his mother reached out her warm, love-filled hands to hold her son's hands, there was a snap. Not a pop, not a gunshot. Not a crack, not a whip. But a snap. A snapping of rope.

The realization was instant for Mary and John. They called out to their son, their smiles vanished. His smile vanished as his mom started racing away from him, her eyes never leaving his. 

And then they were falling. And falling. And falling until they hit the ground with a sickening splat. And all Richard could do, was sob.

\- - - - 

Which brings us to now. 

The first Wayne to snap out of shock is Selina. Tim is focused on the bodies and the sickening angles their limbs were angled at. Damian cannot get past the blood pooling on the floor. Bruce is between flashbacks and reality. Jason doesn't know what to do, or how to react other than be glued to his seat in a paralyzing state of shock.

Selina first shook Damian and Jason. She cupped their faces and soothed them out of their shock. She knows that her boys are overwhelmed right now with what they're seeing, but someone has to help that poor boy.

"Damian," she soothes, and Damian meets her gaze, swallowing thickly. She's soft with her words and voice. "Can you go check on Richard?"

Damian nods, and Jason pipes up. "I'm coming, too." He stammers through his sentence but he stands up determinedly before swinging his legs over his seat and bounding through rows of seating to get to Richard, who hasn't come down from the stands yet. 

Damian follows him, and Selina watches them leave before turning to her husband and son. Tim has a hand wrapped around his wrist. He's twisting the skin and bouncing his knee up and down as he rocks back and forth. His bottom lip has been taken between his teeth and he bites down onto it.

Bruce's breath is trembling and his eyes are hollow. But he stands up and moves towards Tim, beginning to calm his son down. He sees Selina for a second, and nods to her. I'm okay, he tells her. She nods in response, and stands up from her seat as Commissioner Gordon and other cops flood into the circus. An ambulance was called, but no one knows what for. 

Selina walks over to a crowd of people. The circus performers, including Haly, the announcer, have gathered and are mourning the loss of their family because when you're as together as much as these performers are, it's a family. Maybe not by blood, but if Selina knows anything about being a Wayne, it's that blood doesn't define family.

Selina looks over and under limbs and heads and avoids the drip, drip, dropping of tears until she sees it. Little Richard Grayson. He's still in his uniform. A heavy blanket has been draped over his shoulders, and though the boy is shaking like a leaf during spring in Chicago, it's not from the cold but from the sobs he had cried that now leave his breaths stuttering. Richard isn't crying anymore. Instead, he's looking forward with his eyes void of presence, of hope, of light, of anything.

Haly, the announcer and owner of the circus, is sitting next to the boy, holding his hand. Richard isn't reciprocating anything. Before Selina can approach the boy, a team of cops beat her to it. Richard looks longingly to his circus family as he's escorted out by the cops.

Haly is furious. Fuming as the cop car carrying Richard drives off. Selina strides up to Haly, her eyes on where the cop car was. Haly, the jolly man that he usually is now replaced with a seething ball of anger. His fists are clenching and more of the performers look angry.

Cautiously, Selina asks him, "Where are they taking Richard?"

Haly, through gritted, clenched teeth, replies, "Gotham City Juvenile Detention Center."

Selina is stunned. Appalled. Disgusted. Furious. She's spent time in juvie. She's seen it first-hand. Richard won't survive. He doesn't speak English and he's too trusting and happy. He'll be like a plate of meat out in the open in the middle of a lion's forest. And his parents just died literal moments ago. He won't be able to defend himself mentally or physically if someone in juvie . . . no. It can't come to that.

He needs a proper funeral for his family. He needs therapy. He needs people who won't take advantage of him at his weakest. He needs to be able to feel safe. He needs to be protected and loved and helped and loved and -

Richard Grayson needs the Waynes. 

So Selina Kyle knows what they need to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOAAAAHHHHHH was that a strong start! And a brutal one at that! While this was a gory and dark start, this will be a comfort fanfic. I hope you all enjoyed this because it's the first chapter of what'll be a big book (25+ chapters, though probably more.)
> 
> xoxo, author.


	2. Seeing the World in Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck in juvie and wallowing in depression, Dick thinks his life is over before it begins. 
> 
> A certain family of billionaires say otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am using Google Translate for Romani words. 
> 
> copii - kids  
> cimitir - cemetery
> 
> Conversations in Romani will be italicized.
> 
> Also trigger warnings for mentions of child abuse and emotional and physical abuse from peers and people in power.

It's been about five days since the death of the Graysons. Five days since a dark cloud was cast over Gotham. Four days since the Waynes fully recovered. Three since the circus was forced to leave, abandoning Richard Grayson who-knows-where. 

See, nobody can find the boy. Well, they did find him - it just took a while. He had been placed in Gotham City Juvenile Detention Center. Although the circus left his belongings with the secretary at the front desk, Richard's things had been stripped away from him. He was allowed to attend the funeral for his parents, but he was only there for the ceremony before he was dragged back to juvie.

He looked miserable. He had a black eye and a bloody nose. He was wearing an old suit but his shoes were torn and drenched in mud. He was unresponsive to most of the world around him, only mumbling in either broken English or distraught Romani. Either way, any attempt to talk to him was foiled by the staff member the detention center sent with him. 

Oh, right. Forgot to mention. The Wayne family paid for and attended the funeral for Richard's parents. The Waynes own a bit of the cemetery and they were more than obliging to let the Graysons be buried on land that would be protected. The Waynes attended the funeral along with the circus performers. Richard bid his circus family goodbye and he thanked the Waynes before he was ripped away from them and forced back to the detention center. 

It was on the ride back to the manor that it was decided that they would get Richard from the detention center. They had been trying to be nice for four days, trying to get the detention center to let them see Richard, asking nicely for the sake of civility, but it's time to go in there and do what Waynes do best - save and adopt a black-haired orphan.

\- - - - - -

Richard John 'Dick' Grayson, at the age of eight, sees the world in grey. It wasn't even a week ago that he saw colors. It was only five days ago that he loved the electric blue of the sky that greeted him each day after cheerful day. He remembers the vibrant green of the grass and the trees that made the world look alive. He cherished the bold red of his uniform and the pearly white of people's' smiles when he talked to them or just passed them in walking down the street.

He remembers when he used to smile. He smiled a lot. He smiled almost every second of every day. His life was simply perfect. He performed at night but all day he was with his circus family. He trained with his parents, flipping and flying for hours on end. He played with the animals, enjoying their company under the sun until the sun had set. He played cards and bonded with Haly and the others.

Now, he can't even smile. What once came so naturally now seems like a chore he's forgotten how to do. He's been ripped from his former self, from the circus, from all meaning of being. 

He hates the place he's in. He doesn't know what it's called or who it's meant to be for, but he hates it. They took his clothes, his stuffed animal, his uniform, his everything. They let him go to a _cimitir_ where they lowered his mami and tati into the ground, but that's the only time he's been allowed outside. 

The other _copii_ aren't nice to him. They're older and they take his food, so he hasn't eaten well in a few days. Not like he would want to eat what's being served. Dick doesn't think the food is even real food, just plastic or just really processed. The _copii_ here are also cruel in that they hurt him. They kick his stomach and punch his face. And while Dick has strong legs and arms, he never thought to learn how to use his strength against others. Either way, he doesn't stand a chance.

He doesn't see the point in fighting back. He'll lose, anyway. He doesn't see the point in much anymore. His parents were his whole world and they . . . and they . . . he can't say it. Each night he wakes up screaming because of his bad dreams. Over and over again he sees them falling and hitting the floor. And over and over again he thinks that maybe he'll wake up and it'll all be a bad dream and that he'll see his mami and tati again, but over and over again he is let down.

Today isn't any different. 

He was woken up by the clanging on the metal bars of his cell. He sat up, pressing his hands over his ears and groaning, wincing at the pain of the loud noise. He was still in the rags from yesterday and the day before that. He looks around, taking in the bleak appearance that he's growing used to. He rolls on his side, wincing at the pain as pressure is put on his bruises.

Dick watches as large forms begin to pass his cell, talking to each other as they file in line to go down to eat. They talk and Dick can only make out certain words. 'Starved' is one. 'Morning' is another. He waits a moment, before slipping on a pair of black shoes and exiting his cell to join the others in the line going down for 'breakfast' as it's called.

His stomach makes a weird noise and his throat feels weird. He keeps his eyes down on his feet. It's like he's walking next to trees and he's protecting his feet and watching where he steps so he doesn't anger the trees in any way. Although, they get angry at everything. They get angry when he looks at them, when he speaks Romani, when he speaks at all, when he tries to eat, everything.

They still shove him around, calling him name after name. He doesn't know what they mean, but they're repeated over and over. 'Orphan' and 'gypsy'. He doesn't know what they mean, but from the way everyone says those words, Dick doesn't think he wants to know. He feels like a rag doll for how much they punch and push him around, never giving him a chance to breathe in between beatings.

Dick's almost at the door that leads into the hallways that lead to the dining hall, but there's a rough hand on his shoulder. He freezes, terrified. He looks up to see one of the guards - Dick calls him 'Stache' because of his ugly mustache - looking down at him with an annoyed look. Dick somehow always annoys Stache.

Stache shakes his head, saying something Dick doesn't understand other than 'Not eating' and 'people' and 'see you'. Dick's face scrunches in confusion. Stache doesn't seem to like this, and he reaches downwards, snatching Dick's wrist. 

He begins to pull Dick down a dark hallway. No, he drags Dick down a dark hallway. The bottom of Dick's shoes scrape against the rough cement floors. Dick is thrashing, eyes wide in fear as he beats at the man's hand around his wrist. It's no use, but as he sees light at the end of the hallway, and something inside of him relaxes. He's still resistant, squirming and such, but then again - he can never be still.

Stache pulls him through two grey double doors. They enter a large room. It almost looks like a restaurant. Chairs and tables are occupied with _copii_ and their families. Dick's heart clenches and shatters again. His eyes sting painfully and his chest feels heavy at the sight of the families together. 

A mother reaches her hand out, placing it on top of her son's hand. Their fingers find each other's, and the mother and son share a happy, warm smile. Dick thinks he might just cry. 

Stache angrily growls something at Dick, snapping the boy out of his thoughts. Stache forcefully shoves him forward. The boy is confused, until he looks in front of him to see Damian and an older man that looks a lot like Damian. Dick's eyes light up and he walks fast over to the table where they are.

Dick takes a seat in one of the chairs opposite Damian and his friend. " _It's so nice to see you . . ._ " Dick trails off, remembering the language barrier.

The man beside Damian smiles gently. In Romani, he laughs, " _Don't worry, Richard._ " The boy's head snaps up in surprise. "D _amian and I are both almost fully fluent in Romani. I'm Bruce Wayne, by the way._ " 

Dick gives a forced, small smile. " _I am Richard Grayson, but I like to go by Dick._ " Bruce and Damian nod and Dick's eyes drift off to the sides. He's thankful he wouldn't have to fail at carrying another conversation in broken English. Each time he's tried to speak this land's native language, he's been laughed at. Cruel laughter at that. Mocking him. Teasing him.

He looks up at the two men. " _I'm really happy to see people I know, but uh, why are you here_?" Wherever here is. There's signs all over the place, but Richard can't read them. He's felt like an outside and abandoned and so many other things that he's just felt overwhelmed. He hasn't had any control in the past five days and it's sucked.

Damian and Bruce share a look. Richard doesn't know what that look is. Worry? Or maybe sadness? Or . . . Bruce gives a smile to Dick. " _How would you like to have a home_?"

Dick bristles at that. His shoulders drop and his gaze hardens. " _I had a home already._ " The best one. He had loving parents and loving people all around him. Are these people trying to replace his mami and tati? Are they trying to replace almost a decade of love and care? Of moments and memories?

As if he read Dick's mind, Bruce nods. " _And we're not trying to replace that home. But we don't think you should stay here, either._ " 

" _You'll probably be killed or mutilated if you stay here,_ " bluntly states Damian. Dick's eyes widen and Bruce purses his lips, inhaling deepling. He brings a hand to his temple, leaning into the hand and swallowing his annoyance as Damian remains stoic and unbothered. 

Bruce scrubs a hand down his face and recollects his composure. He looks at Dick, who's now shaking where he sits, looking around worriedly as if for attackers. Bruce shoots a look to Damian, scolding him, but Damian shrugs, not seeing the issue. 

Bruce leans forward a bit as to be Dick's main focus when he talks to the boy in a soft, warm tone. " _While Damian is blunt with his words, he's correct. We want to help you._ "

" _And make sure you don't die._ "

"Damian!" 

" _Tell me I'm wrong, father. Please. Go ahead._ " Damian crosses his arms, waiting for his father's response. He and Bruce did something similar when they were convincing Jason to stay instead of running off from the manor. They bickered just like they are doing now, and Jason cackled, losing his composure over how hilarious it was. 

But Dick isn't laughing. Instead, he's wiping at his eyes, sniffing loud enough to turn both of the adults' gazes to him as he wipes the tears off his cheeks. In a quiet, shaking voice he cries, " _I don't want to die._ " 

Bruce gives his son another admonishing look before turning to Dick, standing up. " _If you want, you can come back to our house, and we'll provide protection, and a home, and good food._ " He laughs, and looks at Dick, hoping the boy will laugh as well.

Dick, to Bruce's happy surprise, gives a weak chuckle. It's not much, but it's something. He admits, " _The food here could be better._ " He looks down at his lap, contemplating what he wants to do. It's not like he'll be adopted or anything. It's not as if they're asking for him to join the family, right? 

They're offering fresh clothes that aren't tattered, food that is fresh and deeply cooked, and a shower that is both private and full of hot water. They're offering protection and safety, maybe even fun and games. He wonders what he has to give in return. He wonders if he should ask that now, or wait until later. His head says to ask now, but his heart yearns to feel safe.

He isn't betraying his parents if he doesn't get close to the Waynes. And if he lives, he can carry on the legacy of the Flying Graysons. And he can't live here, if what Damian says is true.

Dick raises his chin, looking at the men. And he gives his answer, " _I'll go with you._ "


	3. Seeing the Light of Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Damian free Dick from his prison. Dick is given all of his things back, and then taken to the manor where he meets the rest of the family . . . well, he meets them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing really to say other than thank you all for your help in assisting me in my journey to figure out how to bold and italicize things! Speaking of which, if something here is italicized, it means it is being said in Romani.
> 
> Again, thanks for all the support! 
> 
> xoxo, author.

Shortly after meeting with Damian and Bruce, Dick went back to his cell to collect the few belongings he could keep, while Damian and Bruce went to the front of the place they're in to grab the rest of what had been taken from the young boy. Dick was given dirty looks as he darted into the cell and out as quickly as he could.

Although he knew he should be happy, he could not help the fear that gripped him tightly. In the past few days, his world has been shattered and changed to the point that he doesn't know it anymore. His days are filled with beatings and bruises and insults and his nights are filled with nightmares and images he can't help but see when he wakes up. He would hate his nightmares if they weren't at least an escape from his reality.

Now, he is going to be taken to a house. He doesn't know how big the house is or if he'll be able to escape or leave on his own. He doesn't know who he'll be living with or if he'll be all alone. Well, he already is all alone. He has no one. His parents, his world, the circus - they're all gone. 

He is alone in this world.

Depending on which thought pops into his head, depending on his fear of being in the cage with the wolves or his apprehension of going with a man and a family he has only met once, his speed changes. He's slower when he thinks of the Waynes but as soon as he even thinks he might possibly maybe might see either one of the guards or one of the _copii_. 

He sees Stache, and he wilts. He keeps his head down, following Stache and hoping that if he is quiet enough and small enough, the man's hand won't touch the boy's frail body. He never has liked the feeling of their touch on him. He never knew a harsh touch until he was put in this awful place.

He can't wait to get out, but he also can't help but wonder if he's being sentenced to a worse fate than he's been subjected to. 

He's led to a part of the place he's only been to once, when he was first taken here. He remembers being confused and thrown and pushed around by different men and women, thrown into chairs and stripped of his clothing. He flinches at the thought, but he persists, walking towards Damian and Bruce. 

When you come in through the hallway that leads to the general cell area, you enter through doors that are right next to one of the shorter ends of a long, rectangular front desk where old, irascible ladies type madly at computers, stabbing keyboards and yelling at people over the phone. Near the front doors of the center are couches for people to sit and wait on. Damian is sitting on one of those couches but stands up and joins his father when he sees Dick enter the room. 

" _Ah, Dick_!" greets Bruce. He's holding a box with individual plastic bags inside of it. Dick doesn't dare ask for it yet, he doesn't want to seem needy before he even gets a chance to get to know them. His first impression, if he wants to survive, needs to be the best.

" _Hi, Bruce_ ," he replies, forcing a tiny smile onto his tired face. He fiddles with his hands. His eyes are trained downwards, though they flicker to the men's' faces from time to time. " _Hi, Dami_."

Damian scoffs, crossing his arms in distaste. "TT - _I don't understand the use of those types of ridiculous nicknames._ " Dick notices the disgust in his tone, and immediately cowers into himself even more, if that's possible. 

He purses his lips, deciding that the best route is to say nothing. After all, can he mess things up if he's silent? Can he get kicked out if they barely notice he's there? Dick doesn't think so. 

Bruce is in a sharp, dark blue suit which looks more expensive than Dick's trailer. Damian is dressed similar, looking . . . refined? Yeah, Dick thinks he's using that word right. Damian looks refined. They're both well-shaved and carry themselves with this posture and powerful walk that makes Dick feel less than. After all, he's wearing torn, dark grey rags that are littered in grime and stained with blood. The rags are cleaner than his skin, his skin which is blistered on his hands and bruised feet.

Bruce gives a warm smile. " _Are you ready to leave,_ chum?" 

Dick tilts his head at the odd nickname. "'Chum?'" He repeats as best as he can. The nickname doesn't seem like the ones he's been given by the people at this dreaded place. No, this nickname is different. It seems loving and kind, not cruel and cold. 

Bruce's smile drops, and his eyebrows knit together. " _It's a nickname of sorts. Do you not want me to call you it_?" He seems genuine. Like he wants to make Dick feel safer, feel more comfortable around Bruce. Dick can tell; his mami always said he had a natural talent for telling how people were feeling. An empath, she called him.

Dick shakes his head. " _I'm okay with it_." And he is, really. He realizes he never answered the man's first question, so he does so hurriedly. He doesn't want to be punished. " _And I am ready to leave, if you're ready, too_." He adds the last part to be more polite. 

" _Alright then_ ," Bruce decides, though he gives a weary look to Damian before doing so. The two turn on their heels, walking towards the front entrance. Dick follows closely behind, leaving distance between them. 

They exit through the fortified double doors, and Dick pauses, gasping at the fresh air. The sun on his skin is like a familiar friend greeting him, one whom he hasn't seen for the longest time. He sees the bright blue sky smiling down at him and he does his best to appease it and smile right back. The verdant grass sways to the gentle melody of the wind, the little blades dancing on the ground. 

Dick's attention is stolen away from the beautiful nature when the three go through the metal gate, because outside of the gate is the longest, shiniest black car he's ever seen. An older man, dressed in a sleek black uniform approaches them.

"Ah, Master Bruce!" The elderly man gives a smile, and he calls Bruce something that Dick doesn't understand. It didn't sound like it was said with the intention to be hurtful, and both Bruce and Damian's moods brighten when they lay eyes on the man. 

"Alfred, this is Dick," Bruce steps to the side, gesturing to timid little Dick Grayson. " _Dick, this is Alfred. He's a friend_." 

Dick gives a small smile and an even smaller wave. "Hi."

Alfred travels to the car, opening the door to the backseat. He looks at Dick, almost offering for him to get into the car. Dick does as asked, and slides onto the comfiest leather seats he's ever sat on. Bruce follows and Damian gets into the seat next to the driver's seat. 

"To the manor, Alfred," orders Bruce. There's a click as the doors of the car lock. Dick can't help but flinch. He used to fly, to soar over people like a bird, free as he'd like. Now he's locked in small rooms and sealed cars. 

The car begins to move, and Damian and Alfred converse in English while Bruce turns to Dick. Bruce presents the box of Dick's belongings to the small boy, who eagerly takes it like a gift on Christmas morning. 

" _I thought you'd want these back_." Bruce watches as Dick's eyes light up like stars and his smile matches. Inside the box are what's left of Dick's world. His glimmering Flying Graysons uniform. His favorite stuffed animal, Sitka, which he cuddled with each night that he could, hugging it close to his chest. The book of his family's recipes. His mother's necklace and his dad's tie. All of his clothing is there, too. His hairbrush is near the bottom. Everything he had, everything he thought was taken away from him, is in the box.

Bruce watches as the kid sorts through his things, running his hands along the fur of the elephant stuffed animal and gently trailing a meticulously crafted necklace. Then, he stops. Before Bruce has any time to react or even think, Dick has launched himself at the older man, wrapping his arms tightly around Bruce's waist. 

" _Thank you_ ," Dick all but cries into the man's suit. Bruce is stunned for a moment. None of his children have ever been this . . . affectionate, so to speak. Nevertheless, Bruce manages to place a soothing hand on top of the boy's head, petting it slowly as his other hand rests on the boy's shoulders.

In the front seat of the car, Alfred smiles, his eyes trained on the mirror, watching Bruce comfort the little boy. 

**\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -**

Dick was not aware he was being taken to a castle. See, for a while there during the car ride, Dick was growing concerned. They passed through numerous neighborhoods. There were buildings the size of giants and parks the size of small fields. He saw what he thinks were schools and hospitals. But they kept driving.

Soon, they were on a long road and hadn't seen another house for a while. A few minutes later was when the brick wall started. A towering brick wall with giant trees poking over. They arrived at a large metal gate with spikes at the top. To Dick's surprise, the gate opened and let the car drive in.

" _We're here_ ," said Bruce. Dick's jaw dropped at the sight. It was like a castle! Truly a sight to behold. The front lawn stretched out far and wide and each blade of grass was meticulously cut. The manor itself was two rows of large windows tall, with the attic being half the size and completing the look. The manor is symmetrical with grand designs that make it more akin to a smaller castle than a home. 

The front of the manor has stairs to walk up to a platform that meets the front door. The car that the group traveled in drove up a path and circles a fountain before pulling up at the landing of the steps. The house is a beautiful tan-golden-brown mix, with the windows being spotless and the front doors being taller than Bruce himself. The doorknob is a silver swirl that you can see your reflection in.

The car parked at the front of grand steps. Bruce got out, and Dick slid over, exiting through the opened door, the box of his cherished things in steady arms. He gapes with a wide open mouth, hearing the older men chuckle. 

He stumbles up the steps. Bruce follows behind, ready to catch him if he falls. Damian is first up the steps, but it is Alfred who opens the door. He bows, saying something that Dick takes as an invitation to enter the house. 

The inside of the manor is beautifully made. The hallways were long and they soared above Dick's head. The walls were a dark brown wood with beige wall at the top. The rug started after the welcoming mat. The staircase was grand and well kept. There were paintings on the walls and expensive vases displayed throughout the hallways.

"Is he here yet?" A joyous voice yells out, coming from upstairs. Booming footsteps storm closer and closer, revealing Jason. Jason is in a worn red hoodie and a pair of baggy grey sweatpants. When he sees Dick, he runs forward, a grin on his face. "Dickie!"

He rushes forward, but before Jason can tackle Dick in a hug, a throwing star wizzes past Jason's face, embedding itself in the wall. Dick jumps back in surprise, and Jason just seems annoyed, not disturbed at all by the threat of death he just faced.

"Drake!" Damian admonishes at the same time that Bruce groans, "Tim!" 

Emerging from what looks like the open entrance to a kitchen, is Timothy Drake. The second-eldest Wayne, looking like he just woke up. His hair is rustled and his eyes are sticking together. He scratches the back of his head, yawning. 

He looks at Dick, then at Jason, then at the multiple disapproving glares he's being given by every member of the household. He ignores each discouraging gaze, growling at Jason, "Don't scare the brat before we even meet him." 

"Don't call him a brat!" 

"At least I'm not calling him a-"

"Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne," interrupts a slender woman as she strides forward. She has short, jet-black hair and muscles of steel that are highlighted in a transparent top and a sports bra. She's wearing tight-fitting leggings and has sweat bands on her wrists. She knocks Tim on the side of his head, shaking her own. "You finish that sentence and I promise you that you won't see the light of day for a week."

Tim rolls his eyes, leaning against the wall. "That sounds like a pretty good deal, actually." 

Selina Kyle shakes her head, tsking her tongue with a sigh. Her smile brightens when she makes eye contact with Dick. She walks up to him, and crouches down in front of him. " _Hi, honey_ ," she whispers. 

There's something about her smile, something about her soft, welcoming voice and her loving, warm smile and demeanor that fills Dick with a sense of safety he's longed for for what feels like ages.

He gives a small smile back. "Hello. I am Dick Grayson."

Tim snorts. "That's a tragic name."

Damian scoffs, crossing his arms, "And being named after a bird is better?"

"At least my name isn't going to get me bullied."

"No, the rest of you does that all on your own." Jason cackles loudly at Damian's retort, not noticing the way Tim reaches for his belt. Bruce does, though.

Bruce takes a demanding step forward. "Tim," he warns, and Alfred walks forward, ripping the throwing star out of the wood. With one angered look from Alfred, Tim shrinks back into the kitchen, because he may be passively suicidal and aggressively fearless, but Alfred's wrath is not something Tim ever wants to be on the receiving end of.

Selina stands up and places a comforting and guiding hand on Dick's back. " _Why don't we go check out your new room_?" 

Jason follows them, hot on their heels. "I'm coming, too!" He cheers, running after Selina and Dick, leaving Tim, Damian, Bruce, and Alfred behind to talk.

And boy, do they need to talk.


	4. Communicating Feelings is Hard to Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Dick's still sad and Tim is concerned about the new addition but has literally no idea how to communicate his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will have long plot chapter arcs like this introduction arc but a lot of the story will be made up of fun or domestic or other categorized one-shots that I just really wanna write. Also this chapter isn't fully beta read.  
> Warnings for swearing and some angst. Shorter chapter but more content coming soon.

Dick was amazed by the house. It had pools and trampolines in a magnificent garden that could have been a field or a forest with it's size and beauty. There were 'wings' (though no birds) and almost five different hallways. There were not one but two kitchens, a grand 'ballroom' with the most gorgeous chandelier and the highest ceilings, a dining room with a table stretching father than Dick could see, and so much more. The manor was endless.

His bedroom was massive! Double the size of his caravan that he lived with his entire family in - sometimes even with Samson, their strongman. His bed could fit all the animals on it. His bathroom had a shower and a bath and not one but three mirrors. He checked and it was indoor plumbing for everything - even the toilet. There wasn't mold growing in the corners or ants chittering along the cracks. The floor was so clean he could lick it. 

Selina translated while Dick tried to follow along with Jason. He likes Jason. So full of light and beaming with happiness. He bounced off the walls and talked Dick's ear off, facing him or pointing and running to show Dick some cool feature of the house. The lights have settings and there's a room dedicated to watching films. 

It's all so cool!

And now, Dick has nice people to live with. Well, Tim seems a bit angry all the time, but everyone else smiles at Dick and seems to welcome him into their home, even if it's forever or for just a short amount of time.

Either way, Dick unpacked his things and still had room left for even more things. He put his parents' things in their own compartment, safe and sound. After the tour of what's basically a manor, he couldn't wait to take a shower. And the shower was amazing. It had outstanding water pressure and more than three temperatures. He was gifted with many different options for soap, though he had trouble figuring out which one was for his body and what products were made for his hair. He thinks he saw a 'b' for 'body' and so he went with that, not comfortable enough to ask for help. 

He spent a long time in the shower. He tilted his head back, letting the hot water dribble down his face and soak his hair. He was so peaceful, and then came the worst sound ever: silence. Silence. He never had silence before. He hates silence. Even in the night you could hear the men playing cards or the women on their long night calls. At night there were always animals. At night there was always a lullaby being sung and during the day his circus family never ceased coming up with things to talk about.

But now the only sounds he hears are the drain circling and the water dripping. He can hear each breath he takes. Each breath he takes becomes more ragged and shallow as he realizes that nobody is talking outside his room or playing games outside his home. No one is there to complain he's using the hot water or ruffle his wet hair. There's silence.

There's silence until he begins crying, and soon, he finds he can't stop.

The hot water drowns out his cries. The tiles suffocate him and he wishes for the thin curtains that separated him from the rest of the world that let him hear his _mami_ and _tati_ in the other room. He wishes for the crickets that soothed him to sleep with their songs or the way he had to rush for his food in the morning or his spot at the trapeze. He misses how crowded it got.

Because now there's so much space and no one to fill it.

* * *

After it's clear that Selina, Jason, and Dick are undoubtedly out of earshot, the real talk begins. Alfred is cleaning the room, dusting knick-knacks and there to keep the peace if necessary. They've moved to the living room. Damian is sitting down, one leg crossed over the other. Bruce and Tim are both standing up. It's a stand-off at its most civil, each waiting for the other to speak.

Tim goes first. "You're going to get that boy killed." 

Tim has one hand over his midsection, just below his heart, right where he was impaled on his own staff, how he died. He remembers the pain. He remembers the battle. He remembers the look in his killer's face, how the last thing he saw was that coldness, those unfeeling eyes, that lack of empathy or care for what they were doing. He remembers the last thing he heard was his own voice calling out, helplessly whimpering for Bruce, for his dad to save him. And he remembers death. He remembers resurrection, he remembers being void of all love for months. He remembers the harsh training, the addicted need for perfection. He remembers the endless rage. He remembers the first love he felt in almost four months being the soft cradle of Selina's hand as she begged him to come back to them.

He remembers _all_ of it. And he doesn't want Dick to know _any_ of it. 

Bruce shakes his head. "No, we won't. Jason had to be trained for a year before he was even allowed to save cats from trees." 

After Tim's death, the world was in mourning. Selina had to take time away from the manor and Damian barely made it to the funeral because he was such a mess. Alfred spent his days alone and Bruce was . . . he was barely a man, just a machine that eat, sometimes slept, and beat the ever living shit out of whatever thug or criminal he came across. 

That is, until he and Damian came across the Batmobile, three tires taken off, the fourth in the process of being taken off. And there, working tirelessly - no pun intended - on taking off the fourth wheel, was Jason Todd. Scrawny, more skin and bones and a spunky attitude than an eleven-year-old. Jason managed to nail Bruce in the gut with a crowbar and Damian in the shin, running a whole two blocks until he was caught. 

A month, three good meals a day, lots of love and care, new clothing, sleep and electrical heating later, Jason found out the family secret, and was more than ready to become Robin. But Bruce said no. Jason may have had the best street smarts around and a few skills to show for it, but he was not, under _any_ circumstance, going out in the field right away. 

So while Tim only needed two months of training, Bruce and the rest of the Bat-family collectively agreed that before Jason was even allowed to punch thugs in the face, he needed at least a year's worth of training, and even then he isn't allowed on the most dangerous missions. 

Bruce learned from Tim. No more Robins will die. No more mindless child soldiers will be made. Robin is a sidekick but a respected one. And Dick isn't even going to become Robin for a long time. His parents just died, and what Dick will be given is not a uniform, but a home. 

Bruce scrubs a hand down his face. "I'm not going to make Dick Robin. Jason is Robin. Dick is a boy who needs a home and a family. I'm sure you can appreciate that."

Tim scoffs. "Oh yeah. I loved being here until I died-"

"All three of us have died at some point, Drake," interrupts Damian with a condescending roll of his eyes. He shakes his head at his pseudo younger brother's foolishness. "It didn't turn any of us into psychopaths."

"No," bites back Tim, "Talia did that all on her own." Talia. One of many touchy subjects for Damian. On that note, if anyone insults Jon, they're dead before they can finish their sentence. 

Damian rises to his feet, striding towards Tim with a dangerously unhinged look in his eyes. Venom spewing everywhere as he spits, "You would do well to remember that that is my mother you are speaking so distastefully about."

Tim narrows his eyes. His anger has vanished, confusion clear in his eyes. He scrunches his face and tilts his head. "Didn't Talia literally date-rape Bruce to conceive you?"

Bruce's jaw drops and Damian closes his own mouth, tilting his head, clenching both jaw and fists as eyes go wild. "You-"

Bruce intervenes, placing a hand on his eldest son's chest, pushing him backwards. "Damian," he gives a pointed look to Damian, "Timothy," he gives a pointed look to Tim, "both of you - calm down."

Tim rubs a thumb over his lip, sighing deeply. He hates conversations and people, but he hates conversations where he's getting emotional and has to deal with people, especially people as stubborn and hot headed as Damian and Bruce.

"So are we a fucking orphanage now?" 

Bruce shakes his head, a darkness creeping into his posture and eyes. "We aren't, and have never been, an orphanage. I despise when you refer to this _family_ like that."

Tim groans, gagging at that word. He turns around, calming the Pit Madness threatening to take over. _Not now. Not now. Not now._ He turns around, more collected but still just as furious. "Listen, Bruce, I get it. He's a black-haired, blue-eyed orphan with acrobatic abilities and a pure heart." Bruce scoffs. "But you have Jason as Robin! Why the fuck do you need Dick?" 

Bruce goes to reply, seething with anger, but he pauses, and he sighs. To Tim's surprise, he shrugs. "I don't need him, per say. I just . . . I need to take him in. I need to give him a family."

"And is that what we are?"

"Yes."

"Well," Tim jabs a finger at himself. "I don't think we are. Or I - I don't - I don't think I am a part of it." Bruce reaches out a hand, desperate for his son, desperate to disprove this misguided belief. 

To everyone's surprise, Damian speaks up. "Then you are more stupid than any of us have been led to believe." Damian isn't mocking. He isn't teasing. He's sincere, still arrogant, but genuine and sincere, almost worried or upset. But Damian doesn't get upset, right? Damian doesn't get upset over Tim, right?

That's what Tim ponders as he leaves the living room.

And yet he doesn't leave the house.


	5. "How'd he get up there?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not even a week has gone by and yet they've already lost Dick somewhere in the manor.
> 
> Because why not?

"Where's Dick?"

Not even three days with Dick living in the manor and they already lost him. It's not like they were babysitting him, but they were keeping watch on him. Partly because they thought he'd run away, partly because they didn't want him finding out the family secret, partly because he wasn't eating enough and falling into a deep depression, and partly because he was a traumatized orphan in a new home with people he doesn't know or trust in a state with a mother language he doesn't understand.

So they've been keeping watch on him. They invite him down to breakfast where he picks at his cereal and squints his eyes in confusion when someone talks to him. They invite him to explore the library where he just sort of looks at them until he gets the message he can leave and does just that. They check on him during the night and he's either awake or having a bad dream, though there haven't been any awful nightmares as far as they can tell. 

It was nine o'clock on a Sunday morning. Selina and Bruce were still in bed in their bedroom that all of the boys purposefully stay away from - because ew, could they be any louder - and Alfred was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Jason was gaming on the TV, Damian was in the gym, working up a sweat as he had been doing for two hours. Tim was working on a case in the kitchen, sipping his fifth cup of coffee and waiting for breakfast to be ready. 

Alfred asked Jason to go tell Dick that the food was ready. Jason nodded, exiting his game. He passed Tim, shuddering because his older brother was just creepy when he went on his three-day sleep cleanses. Jason went upstairs, knocked on Dick's door, and waited for a response. His little brother just might have been asleep.

But then a minute passed, so Jason knocked harder on the door, even yelled. The door wasn't locked, so Jason told his brother he was coming into the room, opened the door . . . and saw that the bed was empty and the window was open, blowing in a breeze. 

"FUCK!" Jason turned on his heels and bolted downstairs like his life depended on it. String after string of curses left his mouth as he jumped down an entire staircase, cursing the long hallways and many twists and turns. 

He finally made it to the kitchen, out of breath. Any breath he did have, though, was taken out of him along with the color in his face when he saw that everyone, in the few minutes he was gone, had congregated in the kitchen. Bruce and Selina were sucking face in the corner, Damian was downing a glass of water, Tim was pouring way too much syrup on his eggs, and Alfred was preparing food for the final two boys, only just one returned. 

Now, Jason was tasked with telling his family of vigilantes, assassins, and Alfred that he lost the little boy. Or that Dick ran away. So he stood there, scared for his life, a life that was flashing before his eyes as he stammered and got ready to run all the way to the Narrows to escape certain death. 

Damian was the first to notice Todd and the missing Grayson. "Todd," he began, a warning in his tone as he still held his sword, inching towards his second-youngest brother. It only added to his fear to see a six-foot tall living muscle-machine with a sword coming towards Jason with a storm looming over his face and a threat behind his words. "What did you do?"

All attention is on Jason, who can only force out a laugh and awkwardly scratch the back of his neck, coughing into his fist. "Uhm . . . . well . . . see . . . " The entire family is closing in on him. Even ma is taller than him, about five foot nine. His mouth is dryer than the desert. He backs into a wall, protectively raising his hands in front of his face, yelling, "Dick's missing and I didn't do it!" 

The family drops what they're doing - literally because Tim drops his silverware, hightailing it to Dick's room with the rest of the family speeding behind him. They throw open Dick's door, seeing that his stuff is still there but the window is wide open. So he's still on the premises because he wouldn't leave his things or his parents' things behind. No sign of a struggle, but when Bruce looks out the window, no sign of Dick in the yard or just hanging off the window sill, which Bruce has seen happen once.

Bruce turns to the family, already thinking of the many places Dick could go. The kid is so small and agile for his age and he could be anywhere, fit anywhere, go anywhere. The places he could climb up to are endless. The danger he could get in as is on just as long as a list.

Bruce turns to his family, who're ready to start a search party. "I haven't gotten an alert that he's left the property so Tim, how about you search the East Wing, Selina and Damian can search the garden and pool, Jason take the West Wing, and Alfred and I will search the perimeter." At their name, each person nods and takes off. 

Selina turns to Bruce. Her arms crossed and brows drawn in concern. "Do you think he ran away?" She asks.

She can't help how attached she gets to her little birds. She's the cat of the house, the agile one, the motherly one, the sneaky one. The only other boy with a tendency to run away is Jason. Tim just shuts down and Damian gets petty when they're upset or scared, but Jason feels threatened and terrified for his well-being and so he runs away, though they have motion sensors on the gate to tell when someone has breached the perimeter whether that be from the inside or outside.

She didn't think Dick would be the runner type, more of the run and hide type. Wayne Manor has plenty of nooks and crannies for a small boy to hide in. Jason once hid under the sink, and he's much taller than his younger brother. Dick could be anywhere and Selina thinks it could take all day. 

Bruce shakes his head. "I think he might have had a nightmare and got scared." Could it be that Bruce did something to scare him off? Perhaps it was one of Bruce's gestures? Is it possible that Dick heard Tim, Bruce, and Damian's conversation on his first day there? 

Bruce doesn't know, he just knows he has to find the boy. He turns to his wife, comfortingly rubbing her shoulder. "Let's go find him, shall we?" Selina nods, and they're off to search for their boy.

* * *

"Dick? Dick!" Jason is really searching very hard for the acrobat. He's checking behind trees and in bushes. He's looking up at the trees and their branches because maybe his brother is up there, looking down on them, laughing and playing a one-sided game of hide and seek.

He's scouring the West Wing for his brother. He can't believe he lost his brother! The kid can't survive on his own! He's a shrimp. Not even a shrimp! He's tinier than a shrimp! At least a shrimp can fight! Dick is skin and bones and maybe a few muscles from what Jason can see. And he also looks too innocent for Gotham. He's like a little puppy!

Did he fall? No, they would have seen his body below the window. Did they check? Probably. Is Dick in danger? Is Jason going to lose a brother? Is Dick ever going to be Robin? Is Tim going to try and kill Dick, too? No, Jason will protect him. He's gotten better.

But if he's gotten so much better, why can't he find his brother? 

* * *

"Dick?" Tim lazes around the living room, picking up a pillow and flipping it over. Tim is on his phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media while doing his part to help find the boy. He thinks Dick is either on the roof or somewhere in the garden. Either way, out of Tim's jurisdiction and area he's supposed to search. 

The boy hasn't left the manor grounds, so he hasn't run away. The boy could get hurt but he has a house full of vigilantes to patch him up. He wasn't kidnapped, Tim knows that for sure. The kid's been on edge for a while, but considering it hasn't even been a month since he was orphaned, it's a reasonable mood for him to be in. He hasn't been all that moody or broody, though Tim did pass by the kid's room and he thinks he heard the little brat crying. 

Tim was going to leave for an apartment in downtown Gotham, but he wants to stay now that Dick isn't going anywhere because Bruce and the rest of 'em are already attached to the boy. He can see why. Dick is another black-haired, blue-eyed, exceptionally athletic, traumatized orphan who looks up at Bruce like the man is God. Of course he's been invited into the family. And considering that Damian hasn't tried to murder the boy, it looks like Dick's the new favorite. The new Golden Boy, maybe.

'Golden Boy'. Huh. That nickname might fit. Tim might have to take the moniker for himself, though, considering how hard he works for the mission.

"Dick?" Tim asks, liking his friend's post. In a monotone voice, he asks, "Dick, you under the couch? No?" He peeks under the couch, standing back up with a shrug. "Okay then." He collapses onto said couch, exhaustedly sighing, "At least I tried."

* * *

They had searched everywhere. They had cleared the library, scoured each wing, combed each corner, but had no luck. That is until Damian's eyes widened as he focused on something on the roof. It was Richard!

"How'd he get up there?" asks Jason, peering upwards, partly relieved but also filled with horror as his little brother walks along the rooftop. 

"And how do we get him down?" adds Tim, concerned with the wind factor and the boy's lack of body weight.

Selina pushes through the crowd of her boys. This used to be when she would pin her hair up, but these days she wears her hair short. She's still Catwoman though she's switched her side indefinitely. It's windy out but bearable to climb up to the roof. She's in a good pair of sneakers, so she should be good.

She turns to Bruce. "Go find a conventional entrance to the roof. I'll get Dick off the railing." Bruce nods, pecking his wife's lips before letting her go.

She runs to Dick's room, bursting through the door. She climbs out the window sill and looks upwards. She identifies different bricks, plants, and other things that indicate what path the boy took to get up there. She smiles; he's more cat than bird with this behavior. 

She begins by gripping a brick, digging her foot into the wall. She uses a sturdy vine to scale the wall. She keeps her footing. Every now and then the wind brushes against her neck, though as she gets higher and higher off the ground far below, the wind is more aggressive. She can even feel a storm coming. It's not the sunniest day and the sky looks like it's in a bad mood.

Once she rounds over the edge of the roof, she sees Dick, on his hands, walking along the roof, again only on his hands. He has his tongue sticking out in concentration. He's so deep in his craftsmanship that he didn't hear them calling, not that he could, seeing that he's seven floors up with the wind howling in his ears.

She grasps the railing, throwing one leg over and onto solid ground. She throws her other leg over the railing of the roof. Dick's on the top of the roof, balancing on the part of the roof where two panels incline to form a triangle shape. He has a surprising amount of balance. Her heart leaps to her throat when he removes one hand to move forward, but he doesn't even sway, not even with the breeze pushing against his feather-like body.

She waits until he's at the end of the roof, safely on two feet. Once he's steady, she clears her throat. "Dick?" Dick startles, and Selina lunges, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the flat, more recreational-area-like part of the roof. He sees her, and he opens his arms, as if on instinct, but closes them, as if hesitant for reasons of rejection. Selina places a hand on the back of his neck and pulls him into a hug. He buries his face into her stomach, arms around her waist, and that's when Selina decides that that hugging Dick Grayson is one of the many wonders of this cruel world.

They stayed like that for a while before she pulled away, kneeling down in front of him with her hands on his shoulders. The small smile on his face is enough to light up the entire city of Gotham. She smiles back. " _Why are you upset_?" He asks, concern on his adorable little face.

Selina realizes that he really didn't hear them. " _We couldn't find you_." 

Dick's face softens and falls. " _Oh_." His eyes search the ground before he looks up, and there's this look in his eyes. It's happiness mixed into a bowl of hope with a topping of a light blush on his cheeks. His whole demeanor brightens Selina's morning. " _You were looking for me_?"

Before Selina can reply, Bruce and the others come barging onto the roof, and her husband takes the words right out of her mouth. He strides up to Dick, kneeling down next to him and holding his face as if assuring himself that the boy is real and there and just real. " _Of course we were looking for you,_ chum."

Jason sprints across the rooftop, tackling Dick in a hug. He says something that the acrobat can't verbally understand what is being said, he can read the colors the words are written in. A bright, shining yellow happiness, a soft sky, relaxed, calming blue sense of relief, and a rainbow flurry of so many more emotions all tell Dick what he needs to know, even if he doesn't know exactly what's being said.

Dick's face scrunches and he giggles a little at the odd-sounding nickname Bruce gifts him. "What's a . . . a 'chum'?" 

Tim groans. " _It's a nickname. He gives one to each of us. Mine is_ Timmy-boy."

Jason catches on, telling Dick, "Jaylad."

Damian narrows his eyes in jealousy. " _Father calls me by my name_." He looks to Selina, who's eyes are asking and full of mischief. " _But mother insists on calling me_ Little Bird." Selina smiles in triumph at Damian's bashful admission.

Dick turns to Bruce. The man sees the smile and the hope that Selina just laid eyes upon, and Bruce just sees light. It's not blinding but it's powerful enough and beautiful enough to chase away the darkness that consumes much of Bruce's dreary life. It's like Jason's, but this light and this energy could power the cities of the world and still be there when the power goes out and the life seems nothing but hopeless with no light at the end of the tunnel. 

Bruce, the Batman, the man who darkness fears, the man who lives and breathes in shadows and dimmed suns, likes this light he sees in Dick Grayson.

" _I like that nickname. I like it a lot._ "

And Bruce smiles.


	6. Damian Wayne is Going Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian has never had a weakness. 
> 
> And then he met Richard Grayson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not proof-read.

It was quickly learned that Dick Grayson loves hugs and affection. It started when he had a nightmare. Luckily, it was one of the nights that Bruce and Selina were home, and so they were there and asleep when he opened their door, crying, sniffling, and overall just seeking comfort. Both Selina and Bruce woke with a start, but when they read the situation, they invited their youngest son to sleep at the end of the bed. It ended up that the eight-year-old cuddled at their feet till sunrise. 

After that night, he'd hug them hello in the morning. Jason gave him piggyback rides whenever asked. When Tim did his work on the couch or just on a random floor of a random room of the house, Dick would be buried in his side, doing his own English learning or whatnot. It became a habit for Selina to ruffle the young boy's hair and for Bruce to carry him to bed when he fell asleep in random places in the manor. Alfred got used to brief hugs around his waist when he was cooking or cleaning. 

Dick lived and depended on affection and love. The family, albeit not used to the actions of affections, were slowly warming up to the idea of having such a cuddly son or brother. That is, everyone except Damian.

Damian doesn't do smiles. He doesn't do comfort or love or affection. He doesn't carry children to bed or even indulge in conversation with them. 'Puppy eyes' have never had a sliver of an effect on him. He hates children. He finds them to be a nuisance. He's made his stance very clear. He is the only one in Gotham who is only a step away from being more terrifying than his father, the Batman. 

Needless to say, Damian doesn't like Grayson. He doesn't. 

For one thing, the boy insists by going by such a cruel nickname. He says his parents called him that but it doesn't mean Damian has to like it. It's a cruel nickname and the boy is already going to be ridiculed by Gotham higher society for his heritage and upbringing. 

For another thing, the boy is so happy. He isn't as upfront with it; still grieving the loss of his parents. He's sad, quiet most of the time, but day by day more of his true colors are revealed. And unlike the normal ones of the family, with Jason's vivacious red courage being the exception, Grayson's true colors seem to be a bright blue hope. He's more like Brown, with her sarcastic lavender and terrifyingly bright yellow smile (with blinding teeth). 

To describe the other family members, father would be a dark black, Pennyworth a shadowed grey, Jason a deep, brave orange, Drake a dark and bloody red, with mother being a shadowy purple. It would seem Grayson is joining Brown in the light, matching her sunflower and sun yellow with his own bright sky blue. Damian would pass off the hope as a child's conquest but it doesn't seem like it's a phase, more of the personality he's growing into. 

And because Damian's true colors are a black tinted red, he does not mix with Grayson. He does not return or understand the tight hugs and smiles. He does not bow down to the puppy dog eyes. He stays away from Grayson.

If only the boy would stay away from him. 

Picture the Wayne Manor library. Damian is doing his work in there because he was working in the shared office when Jason came in and began to not understand how the printer works, thus becoming enraged and screaming at the machine to work. Obviously, Damian can't work with that ruckus. 

So Damian ventured into the library, set up his computer, and began to work. He was making progress in his Wayne Enterprises papers when in waddled in Grayson. It was eight forty-six when the boy came in, having just woken up, rubbing at his blue eyes and yawning. It was like a tiny puppy yawning, and Damian saw it, something in his lips twitching at the not-awful sight. 

He went back to his work, hoping that if he was as silent and still as possible then the little rascal wouldn't notice him. But even buried in paperwork and curling into the leather seat, he was the first thing Richard spot. 

"Dami!" The little bird chirped, skipping towards his older brother. Damian tilted his head back, closing his eyes and cursing the universe.

He went back to his work, writing in red pen as if it's the most interesting thing to exist. "Grayson," he cleared his throat, nodding. To his absolute horror, Richard not only approached Damian, but circled so that the child was behind the seat, looking over his shoulder and breathing down his neck. 

Damian stiffens as the boy's chin rubbed against the vigilante's forehead. "What're you doing?" 

Damian shifts, careful to not knock his head against the younger's, only hinder the boy's line of sight. "Wayne Enterprises is considering an investment in one of many upcoming businesses in the Narrows." He's met with silence and slow nodding. "You have no idea what that means, do you?"

"Nope!" Dick pops the 'p', sliding around to be on the other side of Damian's head. "But it looks cool!"

Damian turns his head, finding that when he does so, his face is mere inches away from the boy's. He glares darkly, but the boy stares brightly back. "It's serious business," he hisses. He narrows his eyes and lowers his voice to a gravelly growl. This is the look that makes criminals cower in fear and the voice that keeps the worst of villains awake at night, shivering in fear. 

Grayson smiles, repeating, "Cool!" He stares at Damian. Damian stares right back. Damian clears his throat. Grayson blinks, his smile never faltering. Damian stares at the child, then pointedly back at his work, then earnestly back at the little rapscallion, then at his work, and then back at the boy, hoping that his little brain is developed enough to take the obvious hint. 

Damian turns his body to more face the child. "And so I must complete," he pauses, gesturing wildly to his paperwork, "my work." Grayson still doesn't move. "As in right now." 

To his absolute horror, Grayson does move. He rounds the small couch, and turns his back to Damian, then proceeding to fall backwards, spreading himself across Damian's lap, crushing the paperwork and making himself unavoidable. Damian's jaw drops in shock as Grayson makes himself comfortable, seemingly refusing to move. Then he begins to _whine_. 

"But you're _always_ working!" His whines are loud and high-pitched. He snuggles into Damian's lap like the man is a bed. Damian looks down at the boy, ready to pick him up and throw him out the window. "I never see you!" 

Damian scoops his hands under Grayson's armpits, standing up and lifting the boy high off the ground. The boy faces him, pouting and unconcerned with the lack of ground under his feet. "You see me now." 

"But you're trying to not see me."

By now, they've arrived at the entrance to the library. "I am trying to get rid of you, yes." Grayson takes his words as a challenge, though, for as Damian tries to put the boy down, Grayson wraps his arms and legs around Damian's legs, burying his face into Damian's knee. Damian looks down at the boy, eyebrows raised. "Why are you so adamant about being around me?"

"I don't know what you said but I'm trying really hard to spend time with you!" 

The older man purses his lips, hands on his hips as he closes his eyes and looks up to the ceiling. He could easily rip the boy off his leg and throw him to the other side of the manor. He could pry this child's grip off with one hand and not use all of his fingers. He could disarm the boy before he blinked. But obviously, he can't because Father would be furious if he hurt Grayson. Damian would be ridiculed for days if he laid a hand on the boy's small head. That's the reason he shrugs his shoulders up to his ears, letting them fall down with a defeated sigh. 

"Fine. But just this once." He begins his leisurely walk back to his seat, Grayson still wrapped around his leg, a grin on his small childish face.

* * *

That was the first moment of a spiral into weakness. Damian found that Richard followed him everywhere, save for the bathroom and a few other places. He despised it. The small child was becoming more of a nuisance with every passing moment. He wanted to continue his prowess in the garden, but he was hesitant because he knew Grayson would see him using his sword. The boy did, and yet did not question it, instead finding it to be riveting. 

"You can use that?"

"Yes."

"That's so cool!"

"Your vocabulary is smaller than yourself."

"I have no idea what that word means. Damian, can I use your sword?"

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"I-"

"No." Then Grayson began to do it. His puppy dog eyes. They were inescapable. Sparkling, twinkling, so full of hope and boring into Damian's black soul. They weren't like Jason's puppy dog eyes. These, no, these were on a whole different level, so trained and filled with raw power. 

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No." 

"Aww." 

* * *

"Damian?" asked Pennyworth, cleaning off a butcher knife. He's making a special type of meal of Romani origin. Dick has been understandably homesick, and so Alfred, being the life-saver he is, has took it upon himself to learn how to make traditional dishes. "Would you go tell Master Jason and Master Dick that they need to wash up before dinner?"

Damian nods, dusting off his hands and closing his binder full of work. He does not need to search the house to locate the two youngest. If it's a Saturday, and it's before dinner time, and there's loud grunts and groans and yells that mainly come out of Jason's mouth, then the two are in the gaming room.

He enters to see Jason's character running off the track while Dick's character coasts slowly over the finish line, signaling the third lap's beginning. "Son of a bitch!" curses Jason. Dick looks up at his brother, confused by the language.

Damian pushes off the doorway, arms crossed as he approaches the two children. Jason is back on the track, racing furiously and firing off as many shells as he can, yelling at his character as his blind rage throws him further up the ranks of the game. Damian snorts, shaking his head. "Pennyworth would wash your mouth out with soap for using that kind of language."

Jason scoffs. "Let him try. Die Bowser - die! You suck ass!" He yells victoriously, and even though Grayson can hopefully not understand what's being said, he still looks at his brother, curious and amused. Without looking at his target, he quips, "Sup, Damian."

"Hi, Dami!" Grayson chirps, focused on the game.

Damian approaches the television, watching as both characters soar across the track. He doesn't find this type of activities entertaining. "Gaming time is over. Pennyworth says to wash up for dinner." Both boys groan at that.

"Five more minutes!" whines Jason.

Damian shakes his head. "No." That's when he makes his mistake. He looks at the boys to see not just Todd but also Grayson giving him small, watery, pleading eyes. Damian stiffens, feeling the color drain from his face. 

"Please?" They whine in two-part harmony, and unlike it sounding like screeching knives, it sounds oddly like music. Damian inhales sharply. 

"Five more minutes!" yells Jason.

"Please, Dami?" asks Grayson. Damian looks at him, looks at the TV, looks at Grayson, looks at Todd, looks back at Grayson, and sighs. 

"Four minutes. No negotiation." The boys cheer and Damian retreats, wondering what happened to his intimidation, and why it doesn't work on the tiniest of them all.

* * *

Drake is getting on Damian's nerves. He is still on the fence about Grayson's presence here, and he makes it obvious to the point that it shapes his face to be more and more punchable. 

"Look, all I'm saying is that the brat-"

"If I were you, Drake," threatens Damian as he examines his sword with stormy eyes, "then I would refrain from calling Richard a 'brat'."

Tim's eyes narrow. He searches Damian's face for a few moments, and then he takes a step back, hands raised defensively. He chuckles, shaking his head. "I never thought I'd see it."

Damian scrunches his face in confusion, still glaring but less intensely. "See what?"

"Damian Wayne going soft."

Damian strides forward, flashing his blade and his two teeth that oddly resemble fangs. "I am not going soft," he hisses.

Tim laughs again. "Whatever you say, Wayne."

* * *

After a long night, Damian returns home. He strips himself of his uniform, changing into his nighttime attire. The rest of the family has gone upstairs, having returned an hour earlier than Damian had. He opted to take the last shift, enjoying the silence of the echoing cave and the peace of the retreating night and incoming morning. He exited the Grandfather Clock, closing it behind himself, sighing and carding a hand through his hair.

He freezes when he sees Grayson, curled up on the couch with a picture book in front of the fireplace. The boy seems to be asleep, but if he had been awake, there's no doubt he would have seen Damian exit the secret entrance to the family's most kept secret. The boy's head is tilted back unnaturally and he's snoring softly.

Damian's eyes flit from side to side before he decides to silently walk past the boy. It is not his problem to care for the rascal. That is mother and father's job, one that they do so well. If the boy has a muscle ache in the morning, he can ask one of his many parental figures to help him. If he's down here because he has sleeping issues, well, that is none of Damian's business. None of his business. He is not in charge. Nope. Out of his jurisdiction. Not one of his priorities. Grayson is not one of his priorities. Grayson is . . . not going to be comfortable when he wakes. 

Damian stops at the doorway to the living room, casting a glance over his shoulder at the sleeping boy. He closes his eyes, sighing, opening them and walking towards the small acrobat. He reaches down, slipping his hands under the boy's legs and behind his back, lifting him up into the air.

He treks down the hallway, careful not to jostle the small boy. He can't wake him. He needs at least eight hours of sleep each night if he is going to continue to be the bright light that antagonizes and challenges the family's usual darkness. It would be counterproductive to disrupt the boy's sleep. 

He pushes open the door to Grayson's room. The bed sheets are sweaty and tangled. One does not have to be a son of the world's greatest detective to figure out that the young boy suffered a nightmare. His favorite stuffed animal is against the wall, having been thrown. Tears stain the pillows. 

Damian walks over. He lays out Grayson's body onto the pillows, turning around to grab the stuffed elephant. He tucks it onto the boy's chest, beginning to pull the covers up when Grayson stirs from a deep slumber.

"Damian?" Dick's words are slurred, tired. 

"Yes, Grayson?" Damian is whispering.

"T'ank 'ou for being a g'd brother." Damian pauses, the blanket only at Dick's midsection. "I m'ss my fam'ly but you guys m'ke me happy ag'n." And with that small yet volume-speaking sentiment, Dick falls back into a tempting sleep. Damian pulls the rest of the covers over the small child, walking over to the door.

Damian gives a small, barely noticeable smile. "Goodnight, Grayson."


	7. Secret Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Jason have been exhibiting weird behavior. They're hiding something - but what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not proof-read. sorry.

Suspicions in Wayne Manor first arose when Tim spotted Dick with bowl in his arms, bags of candy filling the ceramic to the brim. Now, it was no secret that it's a rite of passage for a Wayne kid to create their own candy stash somewhere in their given bedroom. Stephanie started the tradition, and Tim carried it on. Jason's is in his closet under a fake bottom board and Selina has one under her jewelry box. Even Bruce keeps gum in his pocket squares.

The thing that interested Tim was how suspicious the kid looked. Shifting eyes, fidgeting hands, rushed steps - the works. He could've been nervous about being caught by Alfred, but still - if the littlest Wayne was creating a candy stash, shouldn't he had been headed to his room? 

Tim eventually shrugged it off, not having the time or the shits to give to look into the boy's business. He has Wayne Enterprises papers to get through and cases of crime to solve. He didn't think much of it or too hard on it.

Selina was the next one to become suspicious. She had just finished her workout, and was on her way back to her bedroom to shower. This was a week after Tim saw Dick with the bowl of candy. Selina was scrolling through her phone when she nearly ran into Jason. She stumbled backwards, apologized, knowing that now he'll likely be apologizing. He hasn't yet grown out of apologizing for every small thing.

Which is why when he stayed silent, bowing his head before darting past her, she was suspicious. She followed him with his eyes as he rushed off, holding a bundle of video game discs and cases and a console with the wires and plugs hanging down. Now she was interested, but she had to rush down to the cave and she forgot about following up.

Bruce was the first one to ask about it. He was having a coffee in the kitchen, chatting with Stephanie. She lives partially in the manor and partially across Gotham in her own apartment where Tim frequents. Stephanie is the brightest Gotham vigilante there is, with her purple uniform, her shining smile, her witty jokes, and more. The more she and Bruce talk, the more she seems to rub off on him.

They were discussing her college endeavors when Dick came into the kitchen, head turning side to side as he looked for something. He spotted Bruce, and he lit up. "Hi Bruce!"

Bruce gave a small smile back. He beckoned Dick forward with a hand. "Dick, this is Stephanie." 

Dick opens his mouth, about to greet the nice lady, when said nice lady squeals and jumps out off her chair. In an instant, Stephanie's hands are all over Dick's face, pinching his cheeks and ruffling his hair. He squirms, accepting the hug she envelops him in. He nervously looks to Bruce for assistance or clarity, but the man is smirking, highly amused. He shrugs his shoulders, watching as Stephanie gives the same treatment every other kid receives, even Damian, who was older. 

In a high pitched shriek, she exclaims, "You're so cute! And so tiny!" Dick flushes, and that only makes her ruffle his hair again, cooing more and more. "I'm Steph and your favorite sibling."

Bruce loudly groans, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Please don't corrupt Dick, Steph."

That's when Jason entered the room, eyes fixed on a paint can. "Dick, did you grab the paper - Steph?" Jason quickly holds the paint can behind his back, a smile faked on his face. "Hey, I didn't know - when did you get here?"

Steph places her hands on her hips. "Drop the paint can, Jay and come give me a hug." She holds out her arms, and Jason sets the paint can onto the ground behind him before walking up to his sister and accepting his fate. He's never been able to escape her hugs. He gives her a side hug, and in return for his graciousness, he gets a noogie. "Bruce," she laughs, turning to her adoptive dad, "it seems Jason has already corrupted the little guy."

Bruce narrows his eyes, seeing that Dick has slowly inched towards the kitchen cabinets and has grabbed a boatload of paper towels. Jason has edged backwards, and is holding the paint can in his arms. 

Bruce is no stranger to the endless mischief. It really started with Damian being influenced by Jon. Jon declared that he was the 'prank master' and was 'taking Damian under his wing'. To this day, remnants of the bright, hot pink glitter bomb can be found in the Batmobile. Stephanie was miles ahead of Jon when it came to mischief and pushing buttons. Tim was fairly timid, but his friends loved to prank their mentor, Batman. Jason adores pranks, and they're not too bad, but if they turn Dick to the dark side, Bruce might just have to start striking back.

He straightens his back, tilting his chin upwards. He glares down his nose at Jason, who shrinks sheepishly. "Jason," he warns. This usually works. He isn't mad, so Jason isn't scared, but he's threatening because he knows that Jason needs to know when a line is about to be crossed.

Surprisingly, Jason leaps forward to where Dick is. He frantically waves to his older sister, giving her a goodbye as he says, "So great seeing ya Steph! See ya later!" He grabs Dick's hand, and the two rush out of the kitchen before anyone else can say anything.

And Steph takes the next five minutes to taunt and tease Bruce.

She loves being home.

* * *

Everything just got weirder and weirder from there. The entire family was becoming aware of the two boys and the apparent secret. It was like Dick and Jason gained some form of Zeta-Tube or teleportation powers. You asked about Jason? He appeared from the corner of the room. You said Dick's name? He summersaulted into the room when you just saw him across the house. Either Jason and Dick had really upped their stealth game, or something fishy was going on.

And there was _absolutely no way_ that the rowdiest Robin and the sugar-high acrobat eight-year-old could out stealth the Batman and his partners - and in their own home no less.

The family finally decided to do something about it when Damian asked how they were teleporting and the two kids went completely silent. Jason began blabbering out lies and Dick just pursed his lips, clearly holding back lies. As soon as Alfred interrupted the conversation to ask what everyone wanted for lunch, the two kids ran off to who knows where, leaving the entire family intrigued.

And so the mission began.

Saturday morning. Quiet household. Everyone was home, but everyone had cover stories. Bruce was doing work in the cave, Damian was training in the yard, Tim was held up in his room, Stephanie was on the balcony of her room, painting her nails with Selina, and Alfred was preparing a big dinner. The hallways of the manor were clear, or so that's what Jason and Dick were led to believe. In reality, each family member was stationed somewhere throughout the halls or in the shadows, waiting for their targets. 

It began with Dick and Jason in the kitchen in the east wing, waiting for their Poptarts to be done cooking. While in the kitchen, each target grabbed a root beer, hiding it from Alfred when the man grabbed a carton of eggs that was lacking in the west wing's kitchen. Alfred rolled his eyes at their futile attempts at espionage - all that added to proof that their stealth game, in fact, was not the reason they were able to teleport across the house without anyone's notice. 

"I think they're on t' us," comments Jason, blissfully unaware of Tim in the dining room that connects to the kitchen, back pressed against the wall of the open doorway. He's been silent, and like all of the others on the mission, has his earpiece in, the open line putting Dick and Jason on speaker for all of them.

Dick nods in agreement, taking a sip of his drink. "Damian's face almost made me break. So serious." He laughs at the thought. All of his family are serious, and sometimes, he's super scared by them, but sometimes, their faces are hilarious. The way they refuse to smile and try to glare at him and shrink him down to nothing. Never malicious like at the center, but threatening enough to be terrified if it wasn't so funny to see on the faces of people he knows to be soft teddy bears on the inside. 

"They're all serious."

"Not Stephanie."

"True."

The toaster oven dings, and Jason pulls down the handle. He puts a finger on each treat, sliding them onto a plate. It's hot, and it burns a little, but Jason's dad used to place his hand in the boiling water to test it's temperature. He comes from a long line of men who ignore their pain because they don't worry until they're bleeding out. He hands Dick a plate. 

Dick looks to the cabinets, then thoughtfully back to Jason. He nods his head towards the cabinets, asking, "Do you want anything else?"

"I think we got enough in-" he pauses. His eyes nervously dart from side to side, and he lowers his voice. He leans down, and Dick leans in, his nervous tics the same as his older brother's. In a hushed voice, Jason whispers, " _you-know-where_." Dick nods, and Tim holds back a snort at the ridiculous attempt to conceal their tracks. 

Dick and Jason exit the kitchen, each holding a drink and a plate. Tim steps out from his hiding spot, staring at the empty kitchen. "Shadowbat, Spoiler," he taps his com, turning on his mic, "they're coming your way."

* * *

" _Shadowbat, Spoiler,_ _they're coming your way._ " And just in time. Stephanie really did paint her nails, and they just dried when Tim spoke up, interrupting what silence was had. She and Damian are sitting on top of a doorway, waiting for Dick and Jason to enter. Damian insisted he take it alone, but Stephanie protested that she missed him and wanted to spend more time with him. She was even assigned a different part, but she refused.

His younger sister is a pain. In a town such as Gotham, she's the light everyone squints at. And she burns bright. Ever since she began training with them as Batgirl, he thought she didn't fit in. He was the darker shadow to his father's shadowing darkness. She was a bright light poking holes in Gotham's looming clouds. Every insult he shot at her ricocheted. She was a nuisance. Nowadays, she's a nuisance he has come to accept is part of his 'family'.

"Do you think they're hiding a secret railroad?" laughs Stephanie, albeit quietly. 

Damian narrows his eyes at her, his gaze asking 'Are you serious or just dumb?'. "No, you imbecile," he snarls, "I think they're hiding a secret crawlspace." His conclusion makes much more sense. Brown is smart, but sometimes, she acts like the blonde she is. An airhead. He can't believe they were partners at one point. It was heinous and he's glad he kept it off the books. Having that as a record - it could very well ruin him. 

Stephanie is about to speak up, when Damian slaps his hand onto her lips, silencing her. "Quiet," he hisses. Her tongue laps down his palm and his eyes widen as he gags in disgust, wiping his skin onto her shirt. "You are-"

"Quiet," she mocks him smugly. He goes to yell when Dick and Jason enter into the hallway through the doorway they're sitting on. He gives her a Bat-glare and she sticks his tongue out at him. She's eighteen - and it's deplorable behavior. For extra measures, he keeps his eyes on the boys while wiping his hand up and down Brown's shirt. 

Dick and Jason are quiet. They're tiptoeing, cringing at every creak in the floorboards. The floorboards of Wayne manor are a task each child takes on when they're training, or when they want to sneak out. Dick and Jason, one untrained and the other only trained for a year, have not yet conquered the feat. Unfortunate for them, but very fortunate for the people currently following them like they're suspects of a crime. 

Dick and Jason move towards the end of the hallway, right next to the door that leads into a stairway. The way that that certain doorway works is that the casing reaches the ceiling. It's a pull, so if you want to go through it, you pull the doorknob with your left hand and it opens up. The casing is decorated with all certain lines and designs. The door itself is in the middle of the wall, plenty of wall to either side of the door, though because of the narrow nature of the hallway, it's not wide enough that Damian could stand between the door and the wall. His shoulders are too broad.

Jason, though, he and Dick are young, tiny. Jason hands Dick his root beer and plate. Jason then steps forward, getting on his knees and reaching forward. His fingers latch onto the door frame, specifically onto a circular design that's near the bottom. Then, he scoots over to the right, and pulls like one would a sliding door. Half the height of the doorframe begins to recede from the rest of the casing. It's a secret door! But it's build for the size of toddlers and children. The wall slides with it, and it's an entrance. Dick crawls through, and Jason closes the door behind them both, never once noticing his older siblings. 

Once the kids are out of earshot, Stephanie and Damian hop down from their place on the doorframe. Stephanie says to the rest of the Waynes on the com link, "Guys," she breathes, grinning amusedly at where her brothers disappeared through. "we figured it out."

* * *

Moments later, the entire Wayne family have gathered outside of the entrance. Selina goes first, as she's the smallest and has the least chance of getting stuck. In order of most-likely-to-fit and least-likely-to-fit it goes Selina, Stephanie, Tim, Damian, Bruce. Selina goes first.

The tunnels aren't as dusty as one would've thought. Cleared of cobwebs, rusty nails, and they even have fake candles set up to light the path. It's been well taken care off and made as safe as a low-budget allows. There are even paper signs, pointing to which direction leads to where. 'East Wing' and 'Living Room' have been labeled in vivacious colors and symbols. They turn the corner to where the sound is and where the yelling is. 

There, they find Dick and Jason in what can only be described as a recreational area. It's tall enough for Jason, five foot three, to sit up straight and have to hunch just slightly to avoid bonking his head against the ceiling. It's carpeted, not officially, but with all different rugs that are each a shade of red or grey. There's a collection of soft bean bags instead of a couch that sit in front of a TV. Not all that expensive of a flat screen, but enough to keep up with the Wii-U console it's linked up to. Candy is scattered throughout the area, with trash cans full to the brim. The area reeks of Jason's body spray. Books and drawing materials litter the floor. Along the places where the wall meets the ceiling are LED lights; the remote is on a single wooden board in the middle of the boys. The main area the boys are in is one-hundred and sixty-nine square feet of space. The four walls all have different entrances that lead to different hallways, or tunnels.

As for the boys, they're in an intense game, some variation of Mario. Black shades sit atop both their heads. "Dude I'm dead!" Jason is yelling. "Bro - bro - Dick hit Bowser on the head - wait no I want that fire power-up!"

"I almost have it!" shouts Dick in response, groaning as he leans forward. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, concentrated like never before. Selina admits that the acrobat's face is so adorable when he's thinking so hard. "I - I got it!" 

"Dick - shoot the - oh no." Jason's face falls and he pauses the game. He taps Dick on the shoulder. The younger boy hums in response. He turns his head, and the color leaves his face faster than the light leaves a dark room when a candle is put out. There, all with their arms crossed, in the boys' secret lair, is all of their family. 

Oh no.

They've been _made_.

"CODE BLACK!" Screams Jason at the top of his lungs to Dick. In an instant, Dick has shut his eyes and Jason has grabbed the LED light remote, pressing a button that makes the LED lights flash violently. All different colors assault the eyes of the invaders. The shades the boys were wearing are on their eyes and the two scatter, leaving the game on and their food and drinks behind. The enemies are groaning as the two boys run for the hills.

Bruce is the first to recover, moving as fast as he can through the small space. He manages to get Jason, grabbing the boy's ankle as he tries to escape through a different entrance. Tim has to struggle through one of the tunnels, but he is able to tackle Dick, enough to pin him but not enough to hurt him. 

The two boys are caught.

* * *

"Explain." Bruce is glaring at the two boys. Jason and Dick struggled when they were dragged through their tunnels and into the manor's living room. There, they sat the two on the couch. Jason was scowling and Dick looked very disappointed that they had been found out. It was so much fun to have their hideout. 

Jason is glaring right back at Bruce. "I'm out-stubborning you this time." He cracks the knuckles in his neck, never once breaking eye contact. He's been through enough of these to develop an immunity. 

"I know you will," says Bruce. He's smirking. Jason freezes - why is he smirking and - and why is he looking at - _oh no_. Jason follows his dad's gaze to Dick, who already looks uncomfortable. "Dick, son," Bruce starts, overly sweet and soft, "can you tell me what all that was?"

"Bruce - this is cruel and unnecessary," Jason tries to say, groaning at the back of his throat. "He's so little! Don't go after the little man!" Stephanie hangs her head, shaking in sympathy. Tim is amused and Damian feels the same. Selina is laughing behind her hand.

Bruce walks over, squatting in front of Dick. "Dick, my boy, my son who I love so very much," Jason groans even louder, "I am so happy that we found your," he tilts his head to the side, mocking confusion, "what was it?" Dick purses his lips, sweat beads on his forehead. "C'mon, son, would you please tell me what it is?"

Dick stares blankly back at Bruce, though he's getting a little bit nervous. Bruce is going to continue, when Jason sighs. "I can't watch this anymore. It was a bro-cave. We found the tunnels a while back and we cleaned it up to make it our hangout. The tunnels connect to crawl spaces and are all over the house, which is how we've been everywhere."

Damian crosses his arms. "Just how did you discover this 'bro-cave'?" 

"By finding it out," supplies Dick.

"And how was that?"

"By finding out it existed."

"Richard, I'm losing my patience."

Jason, smirking proudly, adds, "And we discovered it's existence when the fact that it existed became apparent to us." Damian slaps his hand against his face. Stephanie dissolves into shameless cackles.

Dick has now coaxed Bruce onto the bed, and is snuggled against his side. He looks up at Bruce, giggling, "It was so much fun sneaking around."

Jason laughs. "You guys were so confused. It was hilarious."

As the boys laugh more and more, Selina knows one thing - they are definitely Waynes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy this fluff while you can.
> 
> hehe.


End file.
